Quiet
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "Patrick Jane loved to snuggle into her pirate themed bed, even if it was a tight squeeze and he had occasionally fallen off the bed. It had only made her laugh harder. He would do anything to make his little girl laugh." Jisbon and their baby, Rated T, heavy subject but altogether quite positive.


**A/N: Merry Christmas everybody! This piece wasn't written as a Christmas one, but I'm excited to publish it anyway because I've been working on it for a long time. No mentions of Christmas, but just my Christmas gift to y'all.**

 **Also, pay attention: there are some heavy subjects in this, most specifically cancer, so just to prevent anyone from being triggered, take this as a fair warning.**  
 **Without further ado, please enjoy this one!**

 **The title is taken from the song with the same title from Matilda The Musical.**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

 _ **'Quiet'**_

Patrick Jane loved to snuggle into her pirate themed bed, even if it was a tight squeeze and he had occasionally fallen off the bed. It had only made her laugh harder, so in the end, it didn't matter that he would suffer some more bruises. He would do anything to make his little girl laugh.

They were reading her favorite book together: The Boy Who Loved Words. Not in the least because she loved words, too, but that was beside the point. She probably knew the entire book by heart, even if there were words in there Jane had never even heard of. Like 'Djinn', for instance - apparently it was a type of spirit in Islamic mythology, but despite his impressive brain and memory, he had never heard of the word.

She was smart, this little girl of his. She always knew exactly what to do to get what she wanted, even if it meant deceiving some people along the line. She never caused them any physical or mental pain, but it was possible that people were annoyed by her antics. Much like people were annoyed with his. But then again, it was easier for her to be forgiven for these things, since she was only six. He, however, was a grown man - he had no way of getting out of weird situations like that.

His wife Teresa poked her head around the corner, smiling when she saw how busy they were with the book.

"Don't make it too late, you two. You have school again tomorrow, Phoebe."

They both nodded, and she blew them kisses before disappearing again.

Phoebe looked up at him, that cheeky smile on her lips that never predicted anything good, and it just caused him to chuckle and feel proud of her. She was a sweetheart, but whenever she could, she would show her naughty side, too.

~...~

She had fallen asleep eventually, which he knew would happen since it did most of the time, and he had carefully disentangled her from him, before tucking her in and kissing her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, little bee."

He tiptoed out of her room, only to join his wife in her evening routine of brushing her teeth and prepping herself for bed.

"I think one day she might become even more intelligent than you are."

He smiled and kissed the skin in her neck just as she looked down at the sink. She chuckled and turned around.

"That's only fair. I'm not really that smart."

"Of course you're not. That's why you always act like you're the smartest person in the room."

He shrugged, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her towards him.  
"Well… that's because I usually am." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, but there was still that blinding smile she always sported around him on her lips. "I can't help it that most people, except you and Phoebe, are stupid."

She lightly slapped his arm and stepped away from him. He looked at her, in all her beauty, working her way around the bathroom so flawlessly. He would say she hadn't aged a bit in the years they had been together, but that wasn't true - there were some wrinkles outlining the corners of her eyes and mouth, but she was still as beautiful as the day he'd met her. The changes hadn't happened overnight, either. Both knew that most of those wrinkles were there from his burning need to make her laugh, make her happy in general, and he had succeeded thus far. He wouldn't let go of his winning streak now.

When she lay in his arms that night, like she had for countless of years already, he still thought of how lucky he had become to hold her like this, to call her his wife, and to have had that beautiful little girl with her, their daughter, their child.

She tapped his head.

"You're thinking too loudly, I can't sleep."

"I just can't stop thinking about how lucky I am to have you and Phoebe."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I am lucky, too."

He looked at her a little longer, his beautiful wife, and he never got quite enough of watching her, even if he knew that he knew basically everything about her. Somehow, it always seemed like he discovered something new, even if it was the tiniest thing imaginable.

She fell asleep eventually, with that blissful smile on her lips he had gotten so used to seeing. He sighed and held her close.

That was when he heard some sounds from the hallway, and he frowned. He had locked the door properly, right? It couldn't be a burglar. And their dog, Steve, was in his kennel, and as far as Jane knew, he didn't know how to open the kennel's door. That left only one option…

He carefully got up, so he didn't disturb Teresa, and walked onto the hallway, where he saw a few picture frames knocked over which had been standing on the little table before he had gone to bed. The frames led a path from Phoebe's bedroom all the way to the end of the hall, where the bathroom door was slightly opened.

He stepped close. He didn't want to scare her or anything.

"Phoebe?"

He opened the door further and found her hanging over the bathtub's edge, seemingly clutching her chest. He instantly worried, for he had never seen his little girl like this, she was perfectly healthy and had always been. Had she eaten something bad? Had she had a bad dream? But he knew her, she never really got scared by anything.

He put his hand on her back and she came back up, taking a deep breath, but it sounded strained and he got a little breathless himself looking at her like this. It was obvious to him immediately that she was having trouble breathing, and he wished he could give her all the air he was breathing in just fine, so she wouldn't feel like this, but that was not how the world worked, and he knew it.

"Phoebe, look at me," he told her, quite firmly, so she did. He saw rashes in her neck that hadn't been there hours before, and he put his hand against her forehead, while she still struggled for air. She didn't feel particularly warm, so it probably wasn't food poisoning or a flu.

The commotion had caused Teresa to wake up, too, as she stepped into the bathroom and was as worried as him within a heartbeat.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, but she's having trouble breathing. She didn't have those rashes when I put her to bed."

Teresa nodded and wrapped an arm around Phoebe, pulling her close to calm her down. It usually helped, and now was not an exception, as tears started rolling down the poor girl's cheeks, her breathing calmed down.

"What happened there?" Jane asked her softly, brushing her tears away. She looked him in the eye and shrugged, snuggling into her mother's hold. They sat like that for a few minutes, while Jane inspected her rashes from a safe distance, until sleep won from the little girl and they all went back to bed.

"It doesn't feel good," Jane whispered when he lifted the covers so Teresa and him could slip under them. She nodded and held him tightly. While she slipped into sleep soon enough, his thoughts kept him awake.

What were those rashes? How could they just spontaneously show up?

~...~

She went to school the next day like nothing had happened, as though she had just been sleepwalking and they had peacefully guided her back to bed. Teresa went to work like always, but he could read in her eyes that she didn't trust the situation either.

He kept pacing around the cabin thinking about what had happened. He wasn't smart, like people always praised him to be, but he could tell that something was off. He knew he could churn on the situation forever but he wouldn't get any results.

He called Phoebe's pediatrician, Dr. Ryan, explaining the situation, and thankfully the man understood Jane's concerns.

"Mr. Jane, thank you for calling me. We have a small slot to see your daughter this afternoon, just to rule out anything bad."

And Jane really did appreciate how seriously Dr. Ryan took his concerns, yet Jane really couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely off.

~...~

Both his girls pretended that nothing was wrong, or perhaps they really had no idea. It was possible, considering he was definitely the pessimist of them, and she was always positive. Despite his words right before they got married, it was her who mainly looked at the bright side of life, who got excited when the first leafs started to fall bringing closer her favorite season, winter. He had never had a favorite season, had barely even noticed the transition between them, but she did. So the fact that Phoebe was smiling and cuddling them like usual, did enough to calm her down.

But not him. He felt he couldn't be calmed down, not even if the doctor would tell them there was nothing wrong with her, that she was still as perfectly healthy as she had always been.

Dr. Paul was an excellent pediatrician, probably the best he could be for Phoebe. He made her feel welcome in his office to prevent her from being scared, but he knew that she didn't get scared often. He asked her gently what she had experienced last night, focusing on her memories rather than her parents', and he listened intently, asking her questions when he could. So did she - for instance, she asked him about his mustache, which she had explained represented more like a caterpillar above his upper lip.

"So what do you want to be when you grow up, Phoebe? Do you have any idea?"

"Oh, uhm, maybe a police officer like my mother. Or maybe a ballerina."

He smiled while she answered, looking at her papers afterwards.

"Dr. Paul?"

"Yes, Phoebe?"

"Is something wrong with me?"

"Well, we're here to find that out, aren't we?"  
She smiled and nodded, looking at her parents with that sweet, blinding smile she had definitely owned from her mother, and when she turned back to Dr. Paul, Jane closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Nothing Dr. Paul did reassured him, especially not because they had already been sitting there for fifteen minutes. If nothing was wrong, surely they would be outside by now.

They did some blood tests, which had rendered Phoebe a little scared at the sight of all those needles, but she was a big girl, Jane knew, so she would soldier on. She held onto his hand with her free hand, and long after the needle had actually entered her skin, she looked at him from those brave eyes.

"I won't cry even if it hurts."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "It's already done, Bee."

She frowned and looked at her arm, surprised to see only a bandaid where the doctor had put the needle before. "Huh."

~...~

Dr. Paul had said that the results wouldn't take long to come back, only a couple of hours, so they decided to let her play on the playground in front of the hospital, while he got a cup of coffee for his wife and tea for himself.

She sighed and looked at their daughter, playing carelessly with the kids around her.

"I won't accept it if something is wrong with her."

He nodded and lowered his head.

"It doesn't have to be bad," she tried to reason, even though he guessed she would know how serious this could be. She was a realistic person, albeit more on the positive swing of things, but she wasn't stupid, and he never thought she was. Such a sudden onset of quite severe symptoms could point to something innocent and easily treatable, but Dr. Paul would probably have been able to see that in an instant, or at least not draw blood to have it tested. If it was just a flu, she would be home by now.

"Let's assume the worst for a moment," he started, witnessing as Phoebe fell out of the swings but regained herself quite quickly. "Let's imagine she has… some bad disease, I don't know, like leukemia or something. The symptoms only showed up just now, she never showed anything like this before, so it cannot possibly be in an advanced stage. So even if she did have that, she would probably be fixed in no time."

He realized in that moment why he was such a bad optimist - he didn't even believe his own words.

When they walked back to Dr. Paul's office at the time they had decided with him to be back, Phoebe's curiosity got the better of her.

"Am I sick?"

Jane looked down at her, then at Teresa, who was biting her lip in anxiety.

"We don't know. But Dr. Paul will know."

She nodded, grabbing both their hands and they continued their walk in silence.

"Well, Phoebe, I have good news and bad news. Which news do you want to know first?"

"The bad news, please."

Dr. Paul nodded. "You have leukemia."

The girl just looked at him as though he had grown a second head, while Jane's world just completely collapsed. He had uttered the words just minutes before, but he hadn't meant for them to come true. And now, he was sitting in this office with his wife who was trying so hard to be strong, and he knew she would succeed in the end. And with his little girl, who had just been diagnosed with cancer, but who didn't even know the meaning of the word, didn't know what it encompassed, didn't know what result it could have.

"Okay… what is leukemia?"

Dr. Paul paused for a moment, then pushed all of his stuff from his desk and replaced it with a box full of toy cars, soldiers and whatnot.

"Try to think of it as this. In your blood, you have several cells protecting you from anything bad and keeping you healthy and running. For instance, you have cars like these, which carry oxygen from your lungs all throughout your body, even to your tiny toe and all the way back to your head. They're called red blood cells. Then there are the soldiers who protect you from any nasty things trying to hurt you. For instance, if you have a flu, you might get fever, which is just caused by all these soldiers running up and down trying to fight the virus. They're white blood cells. And finally, there are what they call with a difficult word, platelets. When you fall and scrape your knee, or you cut your finger trying to help your mum or dad with dinner, these platelets will form a scab to prevent you from bleeding out too much. All three of them together, they form an army to keep you up and running. Now, what happens when somebody has leukemia, is that there are bad cells in their blood, like… pins, for instance, which will hurt the soldiers when they step on them and cause the car's' tires to deflate. They can't do their job properly anymore. It might even cause the platelets to forget to put a scab on your cut at all. And that's where we come in. Me, Dr. Paul. What we will do is we will fight these bad cells so they will stop working against your army so you can go fall onto your knee again without worrying that you will keep bleeding."

Phoebe took all this information in, and Jane knew she was smart enough to understand everything that Dr. Paul was telling her. Jane would have to look for books explaining cancer so she could read them.

His body felt like it was on fire with rage, frustration and fear. How could it happen that this little girl, this sweet miracle, had been cursed with such a foul disease? How could it be that she could be taken from them so easily, while they had worked for years trying to make 'them' be a thing, which would ultimately lead to her creation?

"What is the good news?"

Dr. Paul smiled and reached out his hand, and the girl shook it.

"I will try my very best to make you better. They don't call me the Miracle Doctor for nothing."

She chuckled and so did he, until their laughter died down a little and she looked at her parents. She seemed to realize how severe this situation was by just a brief glance in their direction. Jane couldn't deny there were tears in his eyes. He wanted to stay strong, but he couldn't find the part within him that was usually calm and rational.

"Will I die?" she asked, genuine, a little bit of fear now in her voice. Obviously, her parents reactions had grounded her.

"Not on my watch. Every kid who comes in here, leaves all healed up. So you're in good hands."

She nodded, looking down at her hands. For a minute or two, none of them said anything, for they didn't know what to say, for their fears and anger were too fresh, too new.

"Can I go home now?"

Dr. Paul shook his head. "Not for a while. We need to start immediately with fighting those bad cells. Otherwise, they might call their friends to ask to join them. And we don't want that, do we?"

She shook her head. And suddenly, all three of them were reminded of the young child she still was, no matter how mature she could act from time to time, no matter how smart, witty and quick-minded she was, she was still just a child. She lowered her head, covered her face with her hands and started crying.

Jane was unsure whether it was because she realized the fortitude of the situation, of what could be awaiting her, of how sick she was, or whether she just realized she couldn't go home and sleep in her own bed. It was probably a combination of the two, but whichever it was, he wanted to hold her and comfort her, so he did. She sobbed in his arms, while Teresa tried to rationalize things like usual, getting as much information from Dr. Paul as possible.

Jane didn't hear any of it. He just heard his baby girl cry in his arms, a rare thing for her to do considering she knew how to man up - even if they never forced her to, she didn't really like showing any tears, preferring to raise her chin to the world and carry on with whatever she was doing.

But right now, she couldn't do that. She only lay in his arms and cried, even if he was certain she couldn't possibly know how badly this could go, what consequences this could have, that she could… she could die. She really could. And that thought alone would have been enough to break his soul, were it not for the strong arms that closed around him and Phoebe, that obviously belonged to his wife. She kissed both of them, tears in her eyes, some already touching her cheeks, and he wished he could brush them away, but he guessed she would understand that their attention should go to Phoebe, at least for the moment.

Teresa grounded them both, making their fear and anger be replaced with love and strength. He knew she wasn't feeling it either, but it was just an instinct of her to care for them, make them feel good about themselves.

"You'll be okay," Jane whispered in Phoebe's ear. Maybe it was far from the truth, but they all needed some strength.

~...~

He could tell that Teresa wasn't dealing well with the news, even if she tried to cover it up. Phoebe believed it, no doubt, but Jane wasn't fooled.

She prayed that night, something she hadn't done like this in years. She was kneeling beside their bed, elbows resting on the mattress, and she seemed to be lost in prayer, not noticing that he had entered the room. He slipped under the covers silently, not wanting to disturb her from something that was so meaningful to her. He could never understand religion, could never understand how a God would allow all these bad things that were happening in the world. How could God allow Phoebe to get sick like this? Such a young, innocent girl, who was only barely six years old, who had hardly experienced anything that was there to experience in life. No, he realized, he couldn't have the same blind conviction that seemed to pull Teresa through life, although he would never want to take it away from her. Neither would she force her beliefs onto him, would never scold him from doubting God, because she knew he would never believe in it anyway, since he was a realist.

Aside from the cross she always wore, she never really showed her faith that much. She chose instead to keep it to herself, and perhaps that was the best option for her. Her faith was hers and hers alone, and even though it stemmed from a religion that had millions of people believe the same thing, none of those people had ever helped her personally. She had gotten through her life with mainly her faith and the support of her mother, who was closely linked to the cross around her neck. She didn't need people's help, although she did welcome his.

"Teresa," he whispered eventually, when he noticed that she had started getting a little emotional. She would never admit to it, of course, but nobody would blame her if she was. His suspicions were confirmed when she rubbed at her face before climbing into bed, too.

He pulled her close, like he had done ever since getting together and which he wouldn't stop doing until he physically couldn't do it anymore.

"I'm scared," she whispered. She kissed him to comfort herself, but he could tell it didn't work. "I'll die if she does."

He looked at her while she tried to avoid eye contact, but eventually she looked at him.

"Then she won't die," he replied. He didn't believe his own confidence, but really all they could do was stay positive and believe in a happy ending. After all, no child had apparently died of leukemia in Dr. Paul's care. "She's a tough one. She'll pull through."

But he understood, of course. Phoebe was Teresa's only child, and in a way he might not want to admit, she was his only child, too. She was scared that her only baby would be torn away from her so cruelly, like… like Charlotte had been taken away from him.

She looked up at him. Something in her eyes told him she understood the significance of his look.

"Now I know what you must have felt all these years," she whispered, reaching up to caress his cheeks, his lips, and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"You don't have anything to feel sorry for. I didn't have anybody supporting me, I was all alone. But we're not alone this time, neither of us. I know we've both had a long history of having to deal with pain all by ourselves, but we have each other now. And she's not given up. She will survive, I can feel it. After all, she's a child of ours."

She smiled a little at that, and he let their conversation hang in the air, their pain much too recent, so they would focus on getting some sleep now, instead of letting that stupid disease get to them.

~...~

Dr. Paul wasn't lying when he said that they had to start treatment as soon as possible. They assigned her a bed where they knew she would spend a long time during treatments and chemos, and left them alone.

Phoebe's initial fear had subsided a little, as she was walking around the hospital room decorated in all kinds of colors, inspecting every tiny detail of the room, until she climbed onto the bed and let out a sigh.

"I'm sick, right?"

Jane nodded and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't look sick."

"You don't have to. It's like… when you have a headache. You feel pain, but people can't see it."

"Will I feel pain, Daddy?"

He settled onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, while hers wrapped around his waist tightly. Teresa joined them soon after.

"Maybe. But we can deal with a little pain, can't we? Even if it hurts, we are here for you. We'll do this together. You're not alone."

The full realisation of the matter would probably kick in when she had had her first chemo and she was feeling bad. Or when she realized she might be too tired to go to school and not see her friends for weeks.

~...~

The doctors had set up a treatment plan and for the moment, it described two chemotherapies and they would see how the cancer looked when they had finished that. Jane and Teresa were offered a room in the family house that was situated right next to the hospital, and it hadn't come as a surprise that Teresa was put on temporary leave from work because she didn't show up to begin with. Then again, her boss understood. He always did. Kimball Cho might be a man of little words, but he had enough empathy in him to last a lifetime, and he had children himself, now. He would never want anything to happen to them, nor to his niece Phoebe, who was also a big love of his life.

They always made sure at least one of them was with Phoebe, unless she specifically told them she wanted to be alone. Even then, they would stick around, in case she would change her mind.

Her first chemo fell badly, and she was continuously throwing up, spending entire chunks of her days in her bed asleep, or reading her favorite book. Her favorite book, which was falling apart at the edges now, the pages torn, but she still cherished it and read it whenever she could.

She had tried to go outside. It was such a force of habit for her to catch some fresh air in the morning, that one day while Jane woke up, he faintly noticed a figure exiting the room. Upon further inspection, he found it was Phoebe, and he was wide awake, jumping out of his chair and following her.

"Phoebe."

She turned around, smiling at him. "Good morning, Daddy."

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I just want to sit there for a few minutes."

"You know you can't go outside."

"I know, but it's just for a few moments. I won't die from that."

He shook his head. "You can't go outside, Phoebe. Come."

"No." Now, her happiness left her, slowly, frustration building in those big, green eyes of hers. She crossed her arms. "I will go outside. You can't stop me."

"I can, though. Come with me. We'll read your book some more-"

"No! Leave me alone!"

"I will leave you alone when you're in your room."

When he tried to reach for her arm, she stepped away. If looks could kill, he would be triple dead. He understood her, but he couldn't allow her to go through with this plan. She was very vulnerable at this stage, she could catch even the smallest of viruses and then their troubles would be myriad.

"Daddy! Why can't I just go outside?!"

"Because you might get even sicker! And then you might die. Do you want that?"

His response seemed to shock her. Maybe she hadn't thought of that yet, perhaps it hadn't even crossed her mind. Dr. Paul had explained it to her, but Jane could understand that she didn't memorize everything.

She cried, stamping her foot in frustration, and he brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. He wished he could take all of her pain and sorrow from her and carry it as his own, but it wasn't possible.

"Of course you don't. I'm sorry I screamed at you like that." She shook her head and stepped towards him, and he enveloped her in a tight hug. He held her there for a while, until she had calmed down, then lowered himself to her eye level. "Okay. It's our little secret, but I'm sure one minute won't hurt. One minute only, though."

She smiled and grabbed his hand, and together they ran to the main entrance, where she sprinted outside, spreading her arms and getting some much needed vitamin D. She stuck to his words, and returned after a minute, a big smile on her face. It was worth it to see her have this short moment of happiness, even if both knew she would probably be confined to her bed for the remainder of the day now.

~...~

Whenever she wasn't feeling too tired she would play with some of the other kids who were installed in that wing of the hospital. Jane would see these kids, and not only feel bad for them because they were all in the same boat - looking at them, their hair all gone but not their smiles, he couldn't help but put his Phoebe in their shoes.

After a while, she was allowed to have guests, and her first guests were of course her aunt and uncles, Grace van Pelt, Wayne Rigsby and Kimball Cho. Grace had dared to get emotional at the sight of the little girl in the big bed, stuffed with tubes, but Phoebe had told her off. She had already seen her parents be emotional so she really didn't need more sympathy from her extended family, either.

The three had offered to watch her, even if it was for a couple of days, and Jane knew that Phoebe wouldn't really mind, even if she would be happy to see them again.

"We'll keep you updated," Grace told them. "You deserve some time off. We would let you take Phoebe with you, but unfortunately that's not possible yet, I heard. But very soon, you can go away with the three of you. For now, you two just take some time for yourself. We'll handle things down here."

Jane didn't know what they could do with this impromptu break, but Teresa had made her mind up quickly. With tears in her eyes from the pain of leaving her sick child behind, she took his hand and pulled him towards the parking lot.

"I was thinking of a spa. Just for this afternoon. And we'll be back in the hospital just in time for dinner."

He heard her voice tremble, but he knew she had set her mind on this. And Grace was right - they needed a break. Phoebe did, too, but until her chemo was completed, she would get none of it. Yet they could give her a break from them, get some different people in that room of hers to entertain her. In any case, it would be nice to not have to think about cancer for an entire afternoon.

She impressed him when she didn't check her phone once during their afternoon off, only kept her phone close with the sound on so she would notice immediately when she received a call. She really needed this, and she knew it. So he was happy to grant her this.

When they returned to the hospital, they found Phoebe was peacefully asleep, using Uncle Kimball as a human pillow, while he was taking a nap, too. He would definitely deny it once he woke up.

Grace smiled when they walked in, glad to see that they were doing slightly better.

"She's still a handful," she laughed, handing them both a cup of tea. Teresa laughed.

"Why do you think we needed a break?" she joked. Everybody knew it wasn't because of this, but nobody minded using this as an excuse.

~...~

Undoubtedly Phoebe would lose most of her hair, if not all of it. He wondered how she would deal with that once it happened.

And it did happen. Teresa was sitting on Phoebe's bed with their daughter in front of her, braiding the long strands of hair Phoebe had owned from her mother. Jane was looking at them, calm, a calm he hadn't felt since she had been diagnosed. He had known that this moment would come, and even though it made everything much more real, it had already been real for him when he had seen a whole bag of chemotherapy pumped into her tiny body.

Teresa, instead of giving in to her fear, realized that she should be strong for her daughter, because the little girl had been terrified by their initial reactions, and fear would not do them well. Instead, she made Phoebe turn around and brushed her cheeks.

"Why don't we cut it off? It will fall off one way or another, and this way, maybe the transition will not be so sudden."

Phoebe looked into her mother's eyes and really, couldn't help but nod at that comment.

"I like when you braid my hair, though…"

"I know, sweetheart, but you can braid my hair in the meantime. It will grow back."

Half an hour later, she looked like a whole different girl, her once dark brown strands of hair, curling slightly at the end, were replaced with short locks, which reminded him of his own hairstyle. Even if it was thinning slightly, Teresa still often complimented him on it, and she loved to run her fingers through his hair.

He returned his focus to Phoebe. She was looking in the mirror with her mother right behind her, the woman running her hands through the girl's hair and smiling softly.

"I, uh…" Phoebe started, and linked eyes with her mother via the mirror. "I kinda like it."

The two hugged each other once the girl turned around, and Jane's heart warmed looking at the scene enfolding before him. His gorgeous wife and daughter, through everything that they had had to battle, they were still the most important human beings in his life at that very moment. Nobody else really mattered but them.

After a few moments, Teresa looked at him and lifted one of her arms to invite him in. He could never pass up an opportunity like that.

~...~

Her first chemotherapy had been completed and she was recovering from the blast it had had on her body. A few days after cutting her hair, it all came off, and by that time Phoebe probably had peace with it, too. She had known like Jane that it would happen eventually, seeing as she was constantly surrounded by bald children, so maybe she had even felt a little left out at the fact that she was about the only one who still had hair.

She was cleared to go home after weeks and weeks spent in the hospital, and she hadn't really been home since her diagnosis, Jane realized. He knew she was tired, exhausted even, but she couldn't stop talking about seeing Steve again, the dog that wasn't allowed to be in the hospital as a guest even though everybody knew he wouldn't harm a fly. Jane knew it had more to do with allergies and whatnot, but it still saddened him to realize that she hadn't seen him in ages.

Steve was happy to see her, too. Jane and Teresa had returned home quite frequently, although never together because they still made sure there was always one of them present just in case. Steve was still used to seeing them, but Phoebe had changed so much in appearance, and it had been so long since he'd seen her, that he was confused for just a moment about who she was.

When she started speaking, however, realization seemed to dawn on him and he jumped up against her, and she laughed out loud, accepting his warm welcome. She had laughed before since her diagnosis, but it had never been quite as heartwarming and pleasant as it was in that moment. Jane realized in that moment that it was not all sad and sorrowful - she was sick, and people could see that, but she was positive and still, despite everything, the bubbly little girl she had always been. Jane had been scared to lose her, but the girl's natural power pulled him through.

They had allowed her some space at the hospital, knowing that if something went wrong, help would not be far. They would be alerted immediately, too, so they didn't really need to worry.

But they didn't have all that at home. He was suddenly once again reminded of how sick she was - well, that, and how worried he and Teresa still were. It would probably never go away.

It was Teresa who had to pull him into bed that night, since he simply wouldn't step out of the doorway to Phoebe's room. It felt odd but also comforting to see her in her own bed, and neither him nor Teresa was surprised that she was out like a light. He couldn't stop looking at her, this little soldier, who had just battled her first chemotherapy and had fought so hard that she was allowed to go home. Even if it was only temporarily and she would have to return for her second chemo in a couple of weeks.

He was proud of her. No matter what happened, he always would be. She hadn't lost hope yet, and wouldn't allow anybody else to lose it.

"Patrick," he heard his wife's voice behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist lightly, and he felt she rested her face against his arm. "Come to bed."

"Just one moment," he whispered, not taking his eyes off his little girl. She didn't move, was in peaceful sleep, and the rising and falling of her chest comforted him in an odd way. It had never stopped, even with everything that happened.

"She will still be here tomorrow," she whispered. Yes, she would be. Phoebe would make sure of that. "We can be proud of that fact."

He turned his head slightly and looked at her. "Yes we can."

They tucked her in together, like that evening before her diagnosis, before they retired to bed. He knew it was selfish, and he would definitely regret it, but for the first time since this whole nightmare had started, he let himself slip into his wife's arms, and would just let whatever lead them from that moment. He realized in that moment how wonderful their life had been before the leukemia, and how beautiful it still was, even with dark clouds hanging in the areas around them. It didn't have to mean that they would pass over them, he knew in that moment. Even if they did, they didn't always release their wrath upon everybody below them. It was possible for dark, angry clouds to pass over without so much as a fight.

~...~

Her second chemotherapy commenced, and she had only been sad for a few minutes to leave her friends at school before she both realized that she had friends at the hospital now, too, and that she would get another shot at beating this cancer.

Dr. Paul frequented her room often, landing jokes about any subject he could find, including her parents and her father's silly animal slippers.

"I'll be better, right, Dr. Paul? I can feel it. This will be the one."

"Despite how much I love your optimism, Bee Jane, it's much too early to say. _But_ , I have high hopes. Remember, Miracle Doctor?"

She nodded with a smile on her lips, and she shook his hand.

"I will hold you down on that one. I need to see Steve way more often. He misses me."

Dr. Paul paused for a moment, one eyebrow raised. When he continued talking, it was obvious he was joking. "Oh, is Steve your uncle? You know you're allowed to have people over-"

"No-o-o-o! He's our _dog_ , duh."

"Ah. Well, I've heard it's almost World Animal Day, so… I'll get back to you on that one."

All it had done was excite the girl without any promises made, but Jane had a feeling Dr. Paul wasn't kidding.

Sure enough, two weeks into her second chemo, on the 4th of october, all patients were allowed to see their pets. There were rules, obviously, but Jane and Lisbon made sure that they were all followed so Phoebe could enjoy some precious time with her beloved Steve.

~...~

Her second chemo was better than the first, or maybe she was used to the heavy medication and the environment by now. They were all used to this.

Dr. Paul had done a lot to extinguish their fears and realize that her chances of survival were very big. Even if he hadn't convinced them, Jane would have been able to connect the dots eventually.

She was about to fall into a deep slumber on one of her lesser days, while he sat by her bed, holding her hand. Despite how well the chemo was catching on, she often looked pale and fragile, like a ghost sometimes. It didn't help that just the day before, one of her friends at the hospital had passed away, rendering little Phoebe speechless and a little sensitive. Sensitive was an understatement - she had crawled into her mother's arms and had cried for hours on end.

"I'm not afraid, Daddy," she whispered, looking at him. He nodded and kissed the top of her hand.  
"I know you're not." Nothing made her afraid, but she wasn't perfect. Mannequins could scare the living daylight out of her, but she would never let it show. "You're brave and I'm so proud of you."

"Will I die, Daddy?"

He couldn't make a guarantee, but he would make an exception for this situation.

"No. I promise. You will live a long and happy life and die at the ripe old age of ninety."

She smiled briefly, lifting her hand to brush his cheek. She had always been more mature than her peers, even if there were certain moments that reinforced the notion that she was still just a child. Yet this disease had toughened her up tremendously, had matured her far more than she should have matured.

"Will you do that, too?"

"Of course, little bee. Mummy and I will both be spending many more years with you. I promise." Another promise. He didn't know what could be awaiting them in the future, but he had a feeling that it would be nice to them from then on. Once this horrible disease was behind them, they could carry on living the nice and quiet family life they had been living before.

"I don't want to die," she whispered.

"Nobody really does. But in the end… we can't stop it."

"How did you feel when Charlotte died?" she asked all of a sudden. He had never lied about the existence of Angela and Charlotte to her, but he had never forced them upon her either. They were in a past life almost, but they had still formed him to the man he was today.

He couldn't just answer that question without thinking about it, so he did. He looked at her pondering his next words, but there were hardly any except for the truth.

"I felt sad. I didn't stop crying for a long time. But… I found peace with it. There was nothing I could have done to change what had happened." He kissed her hand again. "Anyway, I met Mummy, and she supported me from that moment on."

She smiled at that, and closed her eyes. "I love Mummy."

His heart warmed and he held her tiny hand against his lips, reassuring her that she was still there. "So do I."

"And I love you."

"I love you, too, little bee. Now sleep. There will be another day of fighting tomorrow. We'll need all our strength."

Before the ending of that sentence, she was already fast asleep, and he looked quickly to the heart rate monitor to make sure that she really was still there. It would never not be difficult to talk about death to this little girl, but she was faced with it on a regular basis. Her words of love, spoken out of her heart, had almost made it look like she was saying goodbye. She wasn't doing badly, however, quite the opposite, so goodbyes were really way out of the question.

He couldn't shake his fears off that evening. He spent all night by her side, checking her heart rate monitor every once in a while, until the sun started setting and Teresa came in.

She scolded him for staying awake all night, but he had explained his reasoning to her.

"She fell asleep and it felt like she was gone. I… I can't lose her, Teresa. I had to make sure that she would stay. I… I can't lose her. I can't lose you, either. You two are my everything, my reason for breathing, for existing, I would be long dead if it weren't for you." He had startled rambling and he knew it, too. He had stayed up all night, however, something he hadn't done a lot in the past few years. Most of those sleepless nights had been happy ones, though - like him and Teresa making love all night, the fire rekindled every time they kissed. Or Phoebe keeping them up with her pleas for attention and food when she had been just a baby. It had disgruntled Teresa a little, to have so many sleepless nights in a row, but he had gladly gotten out of bed at 3 am just to check up on their little girl. She had always started smiling as soon as one of them stepped into the room.

If only she could be like that once more, that happy, bubbly girl, amazed by the world around her, curious, adventurous like her mother. It saddened him to realize that there was hardly any Phoebe left in that shell she currently represented, although there were moments in which her light shone through. Much like the moment from last night that had worried him so much.

"Shh… it's okay. I understand."

She had held him close, comforting him, before dismissing him so he could catch some sleep.

He was glad they understood each other, and were there for one another. He didn't know what he would do without her. Not just now, but in the past two decades as well. She was truly his savior. Nothing short of it.

~...~

Her second chemo seemed to be catching on just as well as the first one, but still Dr. Paul asked for a short meeting outside of her room.

"We can tell that the treatment is catching on, but it's important that we don't stop fighting. We will be planning two more chemotherapies and see where we'll be after that."

"So it's not gone yet?" Teresa asked. Dr. Paul shook his head.

"If anything, it's become slightly worse. But we shouldn't give up hope yet. She is far from beyond treatment so we'll just continue like normal. There is one catch to that, however."

She wasn't allowed any visitors anymore except from her parents. Even they would not be allowed if they were even a little bit sick or had a cold.

"I've seen this before," Dr. Paul started. "Kid starts doing better, goes back home, catches pneumonia or a flu and the cancer nearly wins. I want to prevent that this time around. So until we can be certain that she's strong enough to fight any bad influences, she is basically in quarantine. In between her chemotherapies, she's not cleared to leave for home. Which, unfortunately, means that she will probably be in the hospital until the end of the year."

Jane looked at Phoebe who was sitting on her hospital bed reading a book, a different book than she had read all throughout her first chemo, wanting to read something new now. She was so positive and such a fighter, so he knew she would cope with this news. At this point, she would probably do anything to become healthy again.

~...~

She got worse before she was about to start with her third chemotherapy. What Dr. Paul had feared would happen, happened anyway, even with their attempts to prevent it from happening.

Phoebe caught pneumonia. Her white blood cells had not recovered well enough, and quickly something that should be so arbitrary to other kids, put her in such a dangerous situation she had to be admitted into Intensive Care. The amount of tubes in her tiny body was tripled, and the medication became so heavy they were often prescribed for patients twice her age. Before she became too weak to do anything, she was angry, so angry, but at what she couldn't explain. Obviously it was fueled by the cancer, but he knew it was way deeper than that.

"It's so unfair! Everybody gets to go outside but I'm always here, in this stupid bed, with these stupid books and these stupid doctors-" A nasty cough interrupted her, which nearly made her throw up. When it had settled, she stood on her bed. Jane wondered what had given her so much energy to scream like that, let alone stand up and make a fuss. "I want to go home! Let me go home! I'm so sick and tired of being here!"

He stepped towards her bed and she actually hit him a couple of times, and maybe any other parent would have become angry at her, for making such a fuss, for having such a bad temper tantrum, but not him. He understood this little girl. She had gotten nothing but setback after setback, and every time she thought it would be better now and that she would get to go home and stay there, she had to return for yet another setback.

So he let her hit him, for as long as she wanted, because he could take it, because he was her father.

"Daddy, please take me home. I want to go home."

When her anger had settled a little, he wrapped his arms around her and carried her away from the bed, and into the comfortable rocking chair they had put there. He held her, feeling the anger slide off her and the exhaustion of combined cancer and pneumonia set it, and all he could do was simply comfort her, brush her cheeks, be there for her. He wished he could honor her wishes, he wished he could take her home, tuck her into her own bed, watch her play around the house like old times, but he couldn't. She would die. And then, as a result, so would he.

She lay in his arms often before going to IC, crying, shaking, too sick to do anything about it. In those moments, it was tough for him to stay strong, but he had to, he had no other option.

She couldn't do anything aside from sleep. Whenever Jane and Lisbon wanted to visit her, they had to be cleared and dressed in near surgical clothes, to prevent her from getting sicker than she already was.

He now spent days on end by her bedside, still making sure she was not alone. That had never stopped, and she would never be alone, not even if this stupid illness would be the end of her. Until her final moments, she would be surrounded by people who loved her.

But he wouldn't go that far. Even though she looked so weak, so fragile, he wouldn't give up hope. If she would have been able to say anything at all, she would have convinced him that she wouldn't die, that she would fight this wretched disease with everything that she had, and she had never done anything but that.

Teresa sat down beside him holding two cups of tea in her hands. She kissed him before sitting down and handing him one cup. It was not possible for either of them to leave her bedside at any given time, because their fears and worry would tear them apart, so they had given into a life in this hospital room, only living for their daughter, and nothing else mattered.

"I used to have such big dreams for her," Teresa whispered, settling her head against his arm. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "I used to dream that she would be, I don't know, an astronaut. That she could be whatever she would want to be. Now… that she's happy. That she lives. That I can watch her grow up. I never could have imagined that we could ever be in a situation like this."

He still had big dreams for her, though. Nothing could ever stop that. He never wanted her to experience the same grief he had, never wanted her to make the same mistakes as him. He wanted her to be as he was, with Teresa, his rock, his lighthouse. He wanted her to find a love like this, so real and yet like a fairytale sometimes, and he couldn't believe after all these years that he was blessed with a life like this. Even if everything was put on hold for the moment, he still knew he was the luckiest ever.

They watched her sleep, together, both instinctively paying close attention to her heart rate monitor. It was their only indication at the moment that she was still with them, because she couldn't do much else.

"She is still so beautiful though, isn't she?" Teresa whispered against his arm. "I'm glad that no matter what happens, she's still so sweet and beautiful at heart. The universe can't be so cruel to gift us such a perfect little miracle and then take it from us so soon… right?"

He really hoped she was right.

~...~

"I have good and bad news," Dr. Paul started a few days later. "I'll start with the bad one. The leukemia has advanced itself during her battle against the pneumonia, and we are positive her usual chemotherapy will not be working anymore. Now, before you worry, I have good news, too. As you know, the pneumonia has passed, so that's a reason to believe that there is a possibility to get better results. We know it must have something to do with the medication, so considering she isn't doing it herself, it's too early to hang up balloons. We have seen that there are good cells doing their job in her blood, it's too weak to fight off the leukemia. But, we might have a solution."

A surge of hope made his heart swell, and he knew this must be it. She would get better. He could feel it.

"We can do a bone marrow transplant. Now, what we'll be doing then is adding healthy bone marrow to her own to restore her own bone marrow growth and stimulate the immune system. It's a very intense and expensive procedure, and considering her young age, this is often the last resort for us, but we have to act quick or else she might not have enough healthy bone marrow production to begin with."

Jane nodded and stood. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"Mr. Jane, we need to find a suitable donor first. Would you two be willing to be tested?"

What a stupid question. "Anything to save Phoebe."

~...~

Neither of them were a match, something Dr. Paul had warned them for - almost 70% of patients in need of a bone marrow transplant did not have a match in their direct family.

Unsurprisingly, everybody they knew had themselves tested. Grace, Cho, Rigsby. Wylie, Abbott, even Grandpa Minelli came home from his unwanted yet necessary vacation to be tested. All without a positive result.

Jane sat next to Phoebe once again, the girl still in a permanent sleeping state, and he suddenly felt miserable and sad, something he hadn't felt in a while. He wanted to save his daughter, but he couldn't, his bone marrow did not match. And even their friends wanted to help out, but they also couldn't donate. If this was her last chance and they couldn't find a donor, then she would certainly die. He couldn't even save his own daughter - what kind of father was he? Was he destined to outlive all of his children?

He noticed Teresa was on the phone with someone, but he didn't know whom. Probably an old friend of hers, she had been calling a lot of people to ask them to be a donor.

When she returned, she was silently crying but not willing to explain who had been on the other side or what the news was. Eventually, though, she opened up.

"They found a match."

Hopefully, their baby would survive. It didn't matter to him who the donor was, even if it was someone they had never met - their child would get a second chance at life. That was the main thing.

~...~

They tried to give her as much privacy as possible, had been doing so ever since she had first stepped into this hospital, but she needed constant care and guidance, because even if she was usually able to take care of herself, all of her medication had considerably weakened her. She cried sometimes for the independence that she had lost, but she agreed with them it was way better than the alternative.

He had learned a thing or two about the medical terms they came into contact with on a regular basis. He knew her standard dose of painkillers, could assist the nurses in placing her chemotherapy, and he hoped it helped a little in her freedom and privacy issue. He didn't want her to feel violated on top of everything else she had to deal with.

He was checking her IV and Teresa was sitting on the other end of the room, reading something of little significance. Phoebe had been relatively quiet all day long, but it was one of the bad days. She squirmed and he startled, looking at the IV immediately, afraid he had done something wrong. Teresa's attention was piqued, too.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can you pray for me?"

That made Teresa frown, and so did Jane, curious what had brought on this unexpected topic. She had never been much in contact with Teresa's faith - she was baptized, but that was because it was the one thing Teresa did want to do, everything else was voluntary. She had sometimes joined her mother to mass, but Jane knew it had more to do with abandonment issues than a sincere interest in the faith itself. Jane was often running errands and therefore, Phoebe would be home alone, and she did not like that.

Teresa stood and walked towards her, kissing the top of her hand.

"Why would you say that?"

Phoebe remained silent for a while, thinking over her words. Eventually, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I just… we have been dealing with so many disappointments, I thought, maybe if we tell God in advance, that this chemo will be the end of… this…"

"I have already been praying for a long time for this to be over," Teresa whispered, and she meant it. He had never been the one to stop her praying, always let her find comfort in that, but this illness had taken her to extremes and she had many times attempted to pray through the night. Just like she dragged him to bed when he was stuck in his sorrowful moods, he pulled her to bed, too, to make sure that she was well-rested, which was a necessity.

Phoebe would grow up to be an atheist, Jane knew that. It wasn't because she thought that religion was stupid, but because she always sought out facts, scientific and logical reasonings behind things, and a God was not a right answer for that. He let her experiment with it, though, because it wouldn't be the first time he was pleasantly surprised, and maybe if she did grow up religious, it could make her a stronger human being - like her mother.

"I know. But, I never prayed with you… I… maybe if we do it together, it will be more stronger."

"I would love to pray with you, sweetie," Teresa replied, smiling faintly and sitting down in that all too familiar chair next to the bed. She grabbed a hand of the little girl, planted a small kiss on the top of it.

"What do you want to pray for?"

"Health, I guess. I want to be better, and stay better."

Teresa nodded, and together they focused on their prayers, Teresa stating the words that were so familiar to her, and Jane felt like he was intruding, even if they were his family. He stepped away, walking towards the hallway and closing the door quietly on his way out.

~...~

Only months later did the first sign of progress show itself. She had first been given an extremely high-dose of chemotherapy, and Dr. Paul had reassured them that he would only administer such a large amount of it if he was certain she could take it. Afterwards, she got the bone marrow transplant, so that it could work its way in her blood and right what was wronged.

She just lay there and slept, like she had so often in these months spent at the hospital, but this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was a form of optimism he obviously shouldn't be feeling in times like these, but it was enough to give him strength.

~...~

The first time she opened her eyes after the transplant, which was about two weeks later, was the biggest miracle Jane had ever experienced. Better yet than marrying Teresa, or Phoebe's own birth, the moment she opened her eyes and looked at them, he gained years to live. She would manage, he knew.

He would look at her often, just to await that magical moment whenever she would open her eyes and smile at him when she realized he was there.

"Daddy?" she croaked, her voice so unbelievably weak, but he would always hear what she was trying to say.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He kissed her hand like he had done months ago, so grateful that she was still here, that this little miracle was still with them, gracing them with her presence, lighting up their days.

Before they knew it, she was back on track, reading her books again with her usual glee and curiosity, and seeing her like this made Jane's heart swell, time and time again. She had no idea what she had been through all these weeks before, but he figured she had a faint idea. She wasn't stupid, after all.

He lay in Teresa's arms one night, them feeling safe enough to leave Phoebe alone for the night. With Phoebe having found new strength to fight, he found he had another pressing thought on his mind.

"Teresa?"

"Hmm?"

"Who was the donor?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"You really don't want to know."

"But I do, though. We owe our daughter's life to them. The least we could do is send out a thank you."

She looked down at him, and answered that important question.  
"It was Marcus Pike."

Even as the answer sank in, he didn't know what to feel or say. He had hated the guy once, even if Jane had pushed Teresa into his arms himself. He had kept her from him for so long, and had not even had the guts to apologize to her for his pushing advances.

But suddenly, all of Jane's hate washed off of him as this news set in. This man, who had once, even unintentionally, almost ruined all of their lives, had possibly saved Phoebe's life.

"Thank you," he whispered, to no one in particular. Perhaps Teresa's God, or maybe his subconscious mind thought that Pike could hear him. But it didn't matter. Teresa smiled and kissed his lips.

Perhaps Pike was a good man after all.

~...~

Jane invited Pike over a few days later, because he wanted to thank the man in person, even if it wasn't clear yet that Phoebe would survive. He had given her at least a chance.

Pike seemed hesitant to enter the room. He had not been in either of their lives since he had disappeared to DC years ago. Jane knew it was possible Teresa was still in contact with him, but he didn't worry. Pike had certainly never met Phoebe.

Jane couldn't lie - when Teresa had told him that she was pregnant, he was plagued by nightmares often that the baby she was carrying wasn't ultimately his. Even though there was a lot of time between her break-up with Pike and her pregnancy news, Jane's paranoid mind reasoned that was still possible, even if Teresa had told him multiple times that it wasn't. Yet when he had held Phoebe, had looked into her eyes, he knew he was her father. He knew babies would change physical appearances in their first months, but he saw so much of himself in her that it couldn't possibly be true that she wasn't his. And now, years later, as her stubborn, dark curls bounced around her head, he absolutely couldn't fathom that he had ever doubted that she was his.

Even though her hair was now all gone. It sobered him up quickly.

Teresa pulled Pike apart for a few moments, and they parted with a brief hug, before Pike approached Jane.

"Jane."

"Pike."

Pike reached out to shake Jane's hand, but instead of shaking it, too, Jane pulled him in for a hug.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Pike obviously didn't know how to respond, but eventually gave in to the hug and patted Jane's back. "No problem. Anyone would have done the same."

They looked into Phoebe's room from the hallway, the room that had been home for months, almost a year now (aside from the weeks spent in IC), the room that she had decorated with drawings from her classmates, even if she hadn't seen them for so long. Yes, they visited sometimes, but it wasn't the same as going to school together. Additionally, she had tons of books here now, since she didn't have the energy to get up and do things. So she got lost instead in the worlds created in the books, by the adventures these characters had.

"It's possible you saved her life," Jane started. "You didn't have to, but you did."

"When Teresa called, I… I was angry at first. She hadn't called me in ages, and suddenly she needed my help? But then she told me of Phoebe… nobody deserves this, especially not kids. I… I wanted to help, in whichever way I could. And it turned out that I was a match. I never doubted for a moment."

Maybe Teresa would have been happy with this man, if Jane hadn't stepped up his game and professed his feelings to her. Jane had never seen him as this kind and caring man, but he guessed bad situations brought out the best in people.

"Thank you."

Pike nodded, and after looking at Phoebe a little longer, he left. He didn't need to meet with her, claiming that it might confuse matters once again, and he also didn't want to make her sicker if he carried any viruses with him. Perhaps it was for the best. He had already done his good deed.

~...~

She was eventually allowed to go outside, even if it was still on hospital grounds. They had taken her trusted wheelchair, the one she had decorated with stickers to make it her own, the one she used to move around her room and the ward if she wasn't too tired, and they were slowly making their way into the summer air.

Phoebe's face lit up like the sun shining in her face, the light breeze past her head, and she let out a content sigh.

"You're finally outside again, Phoebe," Teresa said, her hand on her daughter's shoulder, and the girl looked up and smiled at her.

"When I'm better, I will always be outside."

"Don't you want to sleep then?"

"Of course. But I can build a treehouse and you can put my mattress there. And I'll never have to get inside again."

They let her have her fantasies, like she should have had them from the start. Her long time in the hospital, which wasn't about to end any time soon, had put a halt to her hopes and dreams, but with every day that she felt better, her imagination came back. And he had missed her so much. That sweet, charming, funny little girl who would make his days by just smiling at him, laughing at his silly jokes, work on their garden together, walk their dog. He hoped that sooner rather than later, she would be considered clean and she was allowed to go home.

In the meantime, they would have to get her outside more often.

~...~

Dr. Paul stepped into her hospital room one day with a thoughtful look and a clipboard in hand. Jane didn't particularly like the man's expression, but he had taught himself not to panic before he knew all sides to a story.

"Bee Jee, I have good news and I have bad news. Which do you want to know first?"

She smiled, reminded of their conversation almost a year and a half ago, on the day of her diagnosis. She sighed and shrugged.

"The good news?"

"The leukemia is gone. We will know for certain if it will not come back in the next years to come, but we are positive that you are, as we call it, in remission. Now, before we pull out the party slippers, I want you to understand that while this is very good news, it's never a guarantee that you will stay cancer-free. Remission is unfortunately not the same as cured. But if the cancer doesn't come back in five years, we can safely assume the cancer is gone. You might however have to come back to the hospital every couple of months for the rest of your life to make sure it's still gone."

She nodded, looking at her parents, taking in all the information that was given to her. She had talked a lot about remission, and she understood that it didn't mean cured. But she had often argued that she would rather be in remission and always fear that it would come back, than to have the cancer advance and to die. Even if she wouldn't die, having cancer and being stuck in this hospital was already bad enough. And, of course, she had a very fair point.

"What's the bad news, then?"

"You have to leave the hospital in a couple of weeks. And I will miss you."

She smiled and chuckled eventually, as the man returned her smile and moved in for what appeared to be a rare hug. He had gotten attached to her, Jane knew. Who wouldn't? She was the light of Jane and Lisbon's life, and a lot of that light shone through to the other people around them, too.

"Thank you, Dr. Paul. And, I hate to say I told you so, but… TOLD YOU SO!"

Dr. Paul admitted how right she had been all along, and she jumped out of her bed and rubbed it into her parents faces, and all Jane could do was admire this little girl, who had come so far from her diagnosis, who had battled this horrible illness and who had succeeded. She had all right to be dancing, to be proud of herself. Even if, long after Dr. Paul had left, she crashed into her mother's arms, exhausted but happy nonetheless.

"I will live," she whispered, and it brought out all the tears that had been building up in all three of them for so many months, and as they hugged each other tightly, he blessed this family, this precious love he was given.

Maybe, there was a God after all. Or the universe had been kind to them for once and allowed them happiness.

~...~

The weeks Dr. Paul had promised turned into months, but it honestly didn't matter to Phoebe at all. She was getting light doses of chemotherapy to once and for all eradicate all traces of leukemia, even if it could come back in a few years, it gave her a head start. After that, she focused entirely on her recovery and settling back into society. After all, she had been pretty much locked inside for over a year, only sometimes allowed to go out. She had reduced energy and couldn't walk long distances, her legs were just not used to it anymore. And she was put on a rigorous healthy diet to help prevent the cancer from coming back.

It all led up to that big moment when she could finally say goodbye to her permanent hospital room, to her nurses and doctors, including Dr. Paul. She would be back regularly for checks but she didn't need to stay any longer, as long as the cancer hadn't returned.

They came home to their friends and family, who had hung up balloons and banners which said 'welcome home, Phoebe', the sort of warm, cheesy welcome home message you would expect to see in movies.

She bathed in their attention, played with the other kids, but when everybody was gone, she crashed onto the couch, exhausted. Would she ever recover enough to be running around the place all day long like she had before? But in all honesty, Jane knew it was better than the alternative.

He brushed her short hair out of her face as she sighed.

"I hate being so tired," she whispered.

"Do you want to go to bed, Phoebe? Nobody would blame you."

She nodded and let her father carry her to her bed, where she held onto him a little longer than usual.

"I'm glad it was me, Daddy."

"What do you mean?"

"That it was me who got cancer."

"Why would you think that, Phoebe?"

"Well, I wouldn't have been able to be as strong as you and Mummy were if one of you got cancer."

"But you were strong, little bee. You showed us how strong you were."

She got tears in her eyes, something she had done often since being diagnosed, but since she was declared in remission, she hadn't cried except for that important moment right after the good news.

"I don't want you to be sick, too, Daddy. Or Mummy. Will you please check if you're healthy, too?"

"Of course, baby girl. If it will calm you down, we'll all have ourselves checked out."

And with all, he meant all. All of their friends and family went to the hospital on separate occasions, just to make sure they didn't have anything life-threatening that they should definitely know about.

They were all healthy. Following the test result of the last person who had themselves checked, which had been negative for any cancer or dangerous disorder, she could finally start to heal her wounds. Nobody could see she had them, they were mostly psychological, but she needed to heal from them, anyway.

~...~

Five years later

She was stupid. She had climbed into a high tree, knowing that it might be dangerous, but she had misjudged the twig she had stepped on and fell quite a considerable distance before landing on her legs, one of them instantly turning the wrong way.

Teresa had seen everything happen from the kitchen window and had sped over to her.

"I'm an idiot," Phoebe mumbled under her breath, and it had caused Teresa to chuckle a little while she escorted her daughter inside.

They went to the hospital and weren't surprised to find that her left leg was broken. Well, not a big deal, she had been through much bigger fires, medical wise, so she could deal with a broken leg.

She got distracted when the doctor explained how she should treat her cast, and looked at her mother eventually, who probably knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Is the oncology ward far from here?" Phoebe asked the kind doctor, who frowned for a moment. Realization dawned on her quickly, though, as she shook her head and started explaining how to get there.

Teresa pushed the wheelchair Phoebe was sitting in, and it could well be her old wheelchair, as there were glue remnants of stickers all over it. As they got closer to the ward, they both got a weird but pleasant feeling in their hearts.

They walked up to the reception and didn't need to say anything. A familiar voice down the hallway caught their attention.

"Don't tell me… Bee Jee! Heaven's sake, look at you!"

Dr. Paul took care of the younger patients at the ward, so after about a year or so, they had parted ways. They hadn't seen him since, also because they had decided not to give the cancer any more thought than was absolutely necessary.

Dr. Paul rushed over to them, shaking the girl's hand, then her mother's, and then looked at her leg as though to scold her.

"What did I tell you about not having to return to the hospital, Phoebe Jane?"

She chuckled and shrugged.

"So how have you been?"

"I'm, uh… in complete remission, actually."

Dr. Paul smiled and shook her hand again. "I'm glad to not see you anymore here, Phoebe."

They both smiled and he made way to leave, when Phoebe's voice stopped him.

"I know what I want to be when I grow up."

"Oh? I sure hope it's not a ballerina, or else this cast might just crash your dreams like that."

She smiled and shook her head. "Pediatric oncologist."

Dr. Paul was left stunned for a moment, not knowing what to say, when they could swear they saw tears in his eyes before he smiled them away.

"Phoebe Jane, it would be an honor to have you as my fellow coworker. You're my miracle patient."

"I bet you say that to every patient."

He smiled and slightly nodded her head, as though he was tipping an invisible hat.

"I'll talk to you again in many years, Phoebe. Good luck."

~...~

Ten years later

Stepping into this hospital, into this ward, felt very weird. She hadn't been here for ages, and she was glad about that, but still she couldn't forget how long she had been basically living here. For a year and a half, this ward had been her home, her entire world, even the corridor right outside the ward so alien to her, territory she wasn't allowed to enter, and couldn't enter most of the time.

Now, she was here alone, her cancer never having returned since she was declared in remission, and with every year added to that score, she knew the chances of it ever coming back were getting slimmer and slimmer.

She fidgeted with her keycord a little and walked up to the reception desk. She didn't know any of these people, all of her old nurses and doctors probably retired by now, or working somewhere else, maybe focusing on their families, as they should.

"Ah, you must be Phoebe Jane. Dr. Paul has told us so much about you. You want some tea or coffee? Dr. Nayar will be here shortly, she'll show you around."

It would be years until she could firmly say that she held her own physician's license, until she was cleared to work here all by herself, but in those years, she would learn and grow and get to help so many children who were in a situation much like she had been in a decade and a half ago.

"Phoebe Jane."

She recognized that voice. He had aged considerably, not that fast and quick man she remembered him to be, but he still had that ridiculous moustache and that twinkle in his eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay away from this hospital?" he joked, shaking her hand. She laughed, and shrugged.

"Quite stubborn, I'm afraid."

"You must have learned that from your father."

She nodded.

"So, I see you made it. Well, it will be a few years until you're there, but at least you got your internship you so craved."

She nodded again. "This was my home for so long. I nearly died here… and still, I have so many warm feelings thinking of this place. Mainly because of the staff here, who were so kind to me and my parents. I want to do the same, to any other family who might be in a similar situation. Being a blood donor just wasn't enough. And anyway, I'm an experience expert. I know exactly what these people are going through."

"And with that, you might actually have a head start compared to your peers. You can't study experience like that."

So maybe, her having battled leukemia had some positive things as well. She knew life was short, it could be given and taken in an instant, so she had to enjoy it to its fullest. She knew it wasn't necessarily a good thing that she had learned that at such a young age, but it had paved her future, so positive, full of love and life, that she couldn't imagine it being any different.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't proofread it enough, only like twice, so I hope there weren't a lot of errors in there!**  
 **Also, I used this piece as motivation to become a blood marrow donor. It was about time, and because I felt guilty for putting a fictional character through this hell, I felt like I could make up for it.**  
 **Anyway, hope you liked it! And please leave me a message if you want to!**


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